Forever
by TheSilverDevastation
Summary: The Doctor and Rose have a little talk after the events of Girl in the Fireplace. And episode that's been tagged to death gets tagged again.


**Summary**: The Doctor and Rose have a little talk after the events of Girl in the Fireplace.

**Season:** 2

**Characters: **The Doctor and Rose

**Spoilers:** Girl in the Fireplace and everything that came before

**Notes: **Yeah, I know everyone out there has written a tag for this episode, and here's my go.

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who and all related characters are not and have never been mine. If they were Doomsday would never have ended the way it did. I just take them out to play occasionally, but I always put them back when I'm done. Don't sue.

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Soft footsteps from the corridor alerted the Doctor to Rose's presence long before she actually entered the consol room. He took a moment to steady himself, to make sure his defenses were secure, before turning to greet her with a giant grin that was only partly false. He couldn't ever be completely unhappy when Rose was with him.

The look of pained concern on her face that greeted him was almost enough to send his walls crumbling. But he was skilled in the art of avoidance and he managed to soldier on.

"Where's Mr. Mickey then? Get lost in the bowels of the TARDIS already has he?"

"Left him in the kitchen, I think that's safe enough," she seemed to consider that for a moment before adding, "as long as he stays away from the coffee maker that is." Her customary cheeky grin barely made an appearance before the concerned expression was back on her face. "How are you?"

It was a simple enough question and his customary response that he was fine was almost out of his mouth before Rose cut him off with a stern, "And don't give me that 'I'm always alright' line. Won't work on me."

The Doctor's lips snapped shut at that, knowing just how true that was. Rose saw right through him, always had. It was useless to try and keep her out. He'd thought it a little odd actually, earlier when she'd let him off with an 'I'm always alright'. He almost hadn't expected to get away with that. And it seemed he hadn't. She just didn't want an audience for this conversation apparently.

"What happened with Reinette? You went back for her." The last wasn't a question. The Doctor wondered what was going through Rose's head but he couldn't read her. Her defenses could be almost as good as his at times.

"She died." He tried very hard to keep his expression neutral as he said it, and he really had no idea if he succeeded or not.

"I'm sorry," Rose said softly. And she was, the Doctor could tell that she honestly regretted Reinette's death. Because that's just the type of woman Rose was.

"It was her time," the Doctor said, not sure if he was trying to consol her or himself with that knowledge. "History played out as it should."

"You wanted to bring her with us." Again, not a question.

He swallowed at this. He felt so exposed, Rose standing in front of him, stating these facts almost clinically. Exposing his feelings for the world (well, the TARDIS) to see as she stood there, removed from it, like she didn't feel strongly one way or the other. It was a lie he knew, an act, putting on a brave face so he didn't have to worry about her.

"She helped me get back and she'd been put through so much, I… I wanted to thank her. Show her the stars for a bit." And he had been so grateful to her for showing him a way back; it was the only thing he could think of to give her, it was really the only thing he had to give.

Something flickered in Rose's eyes as he spoke, a glimmer of some true emotion breaking past her barriers. He had no idea what that emotion was but he was happy to see it there. He hated that Rose wasn't being open with him, hated that he had to try and figure out what she was feeling. That there was a glimmer of… something peeking through was a sign that things could get better between them. He hoped.

"I'm sorry I ran off," he tried to put as much of himself into those words as he could, needed her to know how much he meant the words he was saying. "I really wish there could have been another way."

Her mask was melting, a sad smile played at her lips as she responded, "I know. I understand. It was the only way to save everyone. The only way to save history. To save her."

The Doctor's stomach twisted when she said those last three words. The heartbreak she almost managed to keep out of her voice physically hurt him to hear. Did she really think that? Did she really believe that he risked everything just for Reinette? Well, yeah, he took that leap to save Reinette's life. But she was history. It was important that she didn't have her brain removed by clockwork droids from the fifty-first century. Really, if it had been anyone else from history that ship had been stalking he'd have done the same. It's not like he was choosing Reinette over Rose or anything ridiculous like that.

Seeing the pain in Rose's eyes though, he realized that that was exactly what Rose thought. And it hurt. It hurt to realize that Rose didn't know. That she didn't understand how much she really meant to him and how hopeless it was for anyone to try to get between them. He'd thought, with the new regeneration and the decided lack of other men turning Rose's head anymore, that she could see, that it had been obvious how much she meant to him. But apparently she didn't see it. And why would she, he realized suddenly. He'd been doing everything he could to distance them since Sarah Jane reappeared. Because he was thick, so very, very thick, and Sarah Jane had scared him, reminded him that Rose was human and so very mortal.

So he pushed, tried to keep her out of his hearts so that losing her wouldn't hurt him. And that was idiotic he now knew. She was already too deeply entrenched in his very soul. When she left, a piece of him would die and it didn't matter if it happened in twenty minutes or twenty years. So what was keeping him from her really? The damage had already been done, why was he still keeping her out? And why had it really taken him this long to realize all of this? Thick!

Well then, time to do something about that.

"Sarah Jane was an excuse, Mickey was a diversion, and Reinette was a distraction and you know what? You know what all of that has shown me? That it's hopeless. That no matter what I do, how I try to push and run, you're still there. Always there. Willing to stand at my side, take my hand, forgive me anything. I ran off into pre-revolutionaryFrancewith no way back to save the life of another woman for Rassilon's sake, and here you are, saying you understand. That you forgive me."

"And that's a bad thing, is it?" she asked, going along with the shift in topic like she went along with all his other daft schemes.

"Yes! No! I don't know!" he exclaimed, running his hands frantically through his hair, "It's terrifying and brilliant and nothing that I deserve."

"Of course you do."

"And I knew you were going to say that."

"Why wouldn't I? It's true. You do so much for the entire Universe; of course you deserve the support of a good friend."

"That's all it is then, the support of a good friend?" There was a timid quality to his voice that surprised him a little. He hadn't meant to sound as vulnerable as he felt. Then again, he hadn't really meant for that question to come out in the first place so a little vulnerability was unavoidable it seemed.

"As opposed to what?" Rose's response sounded innocent enough, but the Doctor's hearts clenched as his past words came back to haunt him.

Closing his eyes against the heartache her simple question caused (and really, he was a Time Lord, this whole situation was so, so… domestic, so _human_, he should be better than this), he responded with a defeated, "Yeah, I deserved that."

"Doctor, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

Opening his eyes to meet hers, he asked her simply, "Didn't you?"

As she shifted her gaze to look guiltily at the ground between them he knew he had his answer. He'd hurt her, oh, so many times, and now she was trying to get hers back. And it was working. He felt terrible. The entire situation was spiraling out of control before his eyes and he was so very out of his depth. Give him a legion of monsters poised to attack and he'd save the day before you could blink, but one heartbroken human girl? One heartbroken human girl that meant more to him in the universe than any one being should mean? How did he fix that? How did he fix Rose's disappointment in him? How did he get them back to how they were before? Before he'd been so painfully and unexpectedly reminded of her mortality and just how much losing her would kill him. Before he chose the coward's path, as always, and pushed her away.

"How?" The question was a plea. It was pulled from him before he realized he'd spoken. Rose met his eyes again, confusion in her look now instead of pain. It was something at least. "How do I fix it?" he elaborated, needing to make them better and knowing that if anyone knew the answer it would be her. "How do I fix us?"

"I don't know," she admitted. It was like a punch to the gut. If Rose didn't have the answer… "I don't know if you can. We can't go back; things can't be the way they were. We can't dance around each other like we used to, pretending there isn't anything between us. It's too late for that."

"Yes, it is," he agreed solemnly, not dropping her gaze for a moment. Gathering what courage he could in the face of this situation he reached his right hand out and slipped it into her left, where it belonged. Bringing their clasped hands up to rest between his hearts he searched her eyes with his as he promised, "No more dancing."

They stood like that for a minute, just staring into each other's eyes. Finally, he saw it, saw the walls come down and saw the full extent of her pain. Tears fell from her eyes and it was as if a dam was breaking. He scooped her into his arms and held onto her as if he'd never let go. And he wouldn't, not ever, not if he had any say in the matter at all. As the sobs wracked her body and her breathing hitched he thought he could make out some words. Hushing her gently he massaged soothing circles on her back; they could finish talking when she was done.

"You left me." When Rose finally spoke, her tone surprised the Doctor. He'd have expected her to sound angry or hurt, but she wasn't. Her voice was quiet and soft and a little muffled since her face was still pressed into the crook of his neck.

"Yes, I did," he admitted, seeing no use in denying it. They both knew the moment he'd made his plan to leap through that window on Arthur what that meant. "You could have stopped me."

"No I couldn't. History needed you." She said that with conviction and resignation and a distinctive lack of bitterness (which would have been justified, the Doctor thought) and he was so very proud of his Rose right then that he held her to him even tighter, planting a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

"You waited for me," the Doctor pointed out, letting some of his awe at that fact make its way into his voice. She should have gone. The TARDIS should have taken both Rose and Mickey back to Earth after he'd been gone five hours, as they both well knew. How she managed to convince his ship to disobey him like that he didn't know, but it was so very Rose.

"Yes, I did." He could hear the smile in her voice as she used his words against him again and he was relieved. They were going to be good, he could feel it. Sure things were probably going to be a bit rocky from here, but that was to be expected. They were venturing into uncharted territories now, beyond the realm of simple friendship and companionship. It was terrifying and unknown to him and he was bound to make some mistakes. But with Rose at his side to help him through it he knew things wouldn't be all bad. "And I always will. Forever."

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**AN:** So, this is my first completed foray into Who fic, please be kind. I'm generally not one for author's notes, but I'm not entirely sure about this one. Part of me thinks its a little ooc and part of me fully accepts this as something that could have happened. It's been a while since I've seen the episode in question. Maybe I've just read too much GitF angst in the past and it's clouding my judgment.


End file.
